Open Warfare
by Bob Elder
Summary: It lives up to its name. I wrote it fast, so don't expect too much ;-)


 

Authors Note: This is pretty damn pointless. It wouldn't even qualify for an Animorphs Fic if…well it really doesn't. There are quite a few Author Cameos though. So, enjoy the weirdness. 

 

 

# Open Warfare

By: Bob Elder

 

Bob tucked himself down low against the dirt wall of the trench. The muddy water that had collected in the low points began to soak into the soles of his boots. He could have used some of his power to dry them out, but he always saved that for emergencies. Anti-Fic Bullets cut through the icy wind above him; he could hear their ominous whistling sound. He pulled down his helmet and adjusted the chinstrap, trying to keep his rifle upright.

A large shell exploded a few feet away, sending a shower of dirt into the trench. "That was a close one." He muttered. Through the haze and smoke, he could see a figure moving up the trench toward him. Even in through the mist Bob could make out the teal armband against the black uniform. One of ours, he thought. Bob almost slapped his head. Of course would be one of ours, the enemy couldn't have made it into the trenches.

As the figure moved closer, he could make out her face. "Hey Mousie!" Bob called. Even though they were a few feet away, he had to shout to be heard. "Hi!" She shuffled up next to him, leaning against the wall. Her face was streaked with sweat and dirt. "How is it on this side of the trench?"

"Its pretty much the same everywhere. Stupid. Stupid and Dangerous."

"You're telling me! I saw Elfy take one of those shells. She won't be able to write for weeks."

Bob took advantage of a pause in the bullets to take a look over the edge of the dirt wall. The blasted wasteland of FanFiction.net looked back at him. Once the rolling hills and lush purple plains were fresh and alive. He grimaced, but they were alive no longer. 

It had all started not so long ago, with a silly feud between a few authors. But no, it had to turn into more than that. Didn't it? Those few called in Allies, who called in other Allies…before long, the entire anifanfic community was in an uproar, that's when the anti-fic bullets started flying. 

He shuddered at the memory. Off in the distance, he could see D.M.P. and Rb's network of trenches. He fired a few shots toward them. Now look what it had become? Open warfare between fan fic writers. The use of major Omnipotent powers suspended by the torn V.I.W. 8 ball's were virtually nonexistent anymore…

Mousie screamed, "Look out!" She threw up a shield, grabbed the back of Bob's uniform, and hauled him down. A large shell destroyed the shield but deflected off to the left. 

"Urg." He picked himself up off the mud caked ground, pushing his helmet back into place. "My thanks." 

Mousie nodded, and fired a few rounds over the wall. Several writers ran by to plug a hole in the defense up at the south end. Bob reached out and grabbed Mad Cow's arm as she went past. "Hey!"

"What is it?" She crouched down low, the rifle on her back sliding down almost to her neck.

"Where's Forlay?"

Mad Cow shrugged, "Last I knew, she was in the command tent! Now, I gotta go fill the line!"

Bob nodded and let go of Mad Cow's sleeve. She took a few steps, but a large bomb arched out of the sky. Before anybody could put up a shield, it landed on the actual trench itself, sending Mad Cow packing with a huge pile of dirt.

"Crap." Mousie said. "We can't keep losing good writers like that."

Bob, ducked down, ready to find Forlay, "Well," he said, "right now, MadCow is probably happy to be home, and trying not to feel too bad for feeling glad to be gone."

"Well what does that do for us here? Plus she wouldn't be able to write."

"Absolutely nothing. And yeah, that's why I don't shoot myself with a damn anti-fic bullet and send _myself _home."

Mousie shrugged and gestured down the line, to the north end, and the command tent. He moved down holding his rifle out before him, leaving Mousie firing over the wall.

He moved past the line, feet sloshing through the puddles. Once he had to throw up a shield to save Gremlin's butt. All Bob got was a simple nod of thanks. As he hit the sloping ground of the northern trenches, the long range anti-fic guns came into view, and with them, the black shape of the command tent.

With sigh he pushed back the flaps and stepped inside. Forlay was bent over a rickety old table, studying the battlefield maps. She looked up as she felt the cool nighttime breeze. "Oh. Hi Bob." 

"Hey." He unstrapped his helmet, and dropped it on the ground. 

"This entire war is going to come to an end you know." She said. "We only have a few really good writers left. More and more often, after their writing ability comes back, they don't return to fight." She sighed and her attention was suddenly turned back to the maps in front of her. "Look at this." Bob stepped up to the table. She pointed along the river "If we send a small contingent of writers up this way…"

"Ma'am! Ma'am! The tent flaps flew apart and DeathGrip ran in. After a hasty salute, she spewed her report. "Rb and DMP are making a move! They're coming across the open ground!"

"That's suicidal!" 

"What is she, Crazy?"

DeathGrip shrugged, and with another hasty salute ran out of the tent. Forlay grabbed her gun and lifted her single starred helmet off the chair. They want crazy? We can _give_ them crazy."

Bob grinned and followed her out as she began shouting orders. "Hold you're fire until you see the whites of their eyes! And, break out the machine guns!" There was a collective gasp as the wooden crates were pried open, revealing the shiny metal. DeathGrip rushed forward securing one of the rapid fire guns for herself. L'Angel stepped up to take a second one, and they positioned themselves where they could easily see the approach. 

There was a loud cry as the enemy writers charged. They threw up shields; that the machine guns cut through. Scores of green and purple clad writers disappeared as they came onward, shot by the Anti-Fic bullets. L'Angel cried out, as she soon saw the problem. "There's just too many of them!" 

Forlay rushed up and down calling on her writers to hold fast. But all the while, she wondered about how they had gotten so many…Suddenly, Rb's and DMP's forces were right on top of the defenders. "They're in the trenches!" shouted AniBlaire. 

Anti-Fic bullets flew down the narrow ditches and writers disappeared left and right. DeathGrip was living up to her name as she turned her the machine gun to the left, not caring exactly who she hit. Bob fired several rounds choosing his targets carefully. Andagorilla disappeared in front of him, hit by an unknown assailant. 

Bob was just about to take out another writer in green, AniGirl he thought, when a strange groggy sensation fell over him. With a start he jerked up at his computer. Sighing as he clicked closed the browser window and tried to think of a plot for a fic…nothing "Well," he said "I guess I won't be doing any writing for awhile, stupid anti-fic bullets." 


End file.
